


Form Most Pleasing

by stereokem



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Bodyswap, Crack, Drinking, Flirting, Humor, Literally complete crack, M/M, Mentions of Masturbation, Merlin is Sick of Your Shit, RST, Sass, Sexual Tension, Singing in the Shower, THE OUTFIT, Technically It’s My Thigh, Yoga, bodyswap au, crack!fic, say crack again, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereokem/pseuds/stereokem
Summary: “Oh, fuck me.”“That’s a really confusing statement, bruv, ‘cause technically you are me right now.”(or: the body swap fic that no one asked for)





	Form Most Pleasing

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been thinking about this for ages, and just wanted to jot it down. Written just for giggles. And yes, I did give the evil scientist who invented the machine the name of a composer I dislike. Also, this story contains mentions of animal testing (it’s very mild, but you’ve been warned all the same). 
> 
> The bit about the dislocated jaw comes from a former boss of mine, who’d dislocated hers during roller derby. It pops constantly when she chews. 
> 
> The safe house is in Docking, Norfolk. 
> 
> Rabbit screams/squeaks are kinda disturbing. 
> 
> Where are motor programs actually stored? Great question. 
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER #1: Even though I have couched this in some small semblance of science (I am, in fact, a neuroscientist), I am fully aware of the impossibility of a mind/body swap. Believe me, I hate reading a fic or watching a movie with some scientific element and mentally screaming “THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS”, but I let my scientific side take a leave of absence for this. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER #2: This fic lacks my usual polish, but it is crack. I take full credit for all mistakes, including inconsistencies with Eggsy's accent.

 

 

**-KM-**

 

“Oh, fuck me.”

Eggsy was alternating between looking down at himself in utter dismay and looking up at Harry. Merlin looked from one slightly singed man to the other, still unsure of what he was seeing.

Harry pulled a face that was quite reminiscent of Eggsy’s smug, lopsided grin. It was an expression Merlin had seldom seen Harry wear, and he’d known the man for the better part of two decades. The expression was made more unnatural when Harry intoned in a voice that was spot-on for Eggsy’s cocky, Chav drawl, “Tha’s a really confusing statement, bruv, ‘cause technically you are me right now.”

Behind Merlin, Arthur’s secretary Kay made a slightly choked noise. It was unusual to hear coming from the normally gelid young man, but Merlin secretly shared the sentiment with him. He wasn’t quite certain what to make of this.

When he had first heard what had been recovered from Percival’s mission, he didn’t quite believe it. That is, he believed there was a machine, and that it was most likely being used to nefarious purpose; but he did not necessarily believe that it worked, or that it worked towards the purpose for which it was supposedly intended. Honestly, who wasted money and research efforts attempting to make a device that would allow the transfer of consciousness? Even at the frontier of research, current neuroscientific evidence had so little to offer about what consciousness _was_ ; yet, here, this idiot (now incarcerated, thank god) had attempted to invent a way for people to swap their minds? Unbelievable. Would never fucking work.

Or, so it had seemed.

When Merlin had arrived with Kay to holding cell 18 to discover two slightly crispy-looking Kingsman agents and a small metal contraption that was tic-ticking as if very hot, he knew something was amiss. The conversation he was now bearing witness to and what it implied might just bring about the mental-breakdown he had known was eventually coming for him. He sort of hoped he was going mad. It might be better than believing this was real.

Looking slightly like he’d been slapped in the face, Eggsy—or, Harry?— turned to stare incredulously at the older, somewhat crispier, agent. “What?”

Harry smirked and, no, that was definitely Eggsy’s expression, as were the sly words that followed: “D’you mean ‘fuck me’ as in ‘fuck you’, or ‘fuck me’ as in ‘fuck _me_ ’?”

Eggsy’s young face was caught between trying to look stony and being utterly baffled. He warbled for a second and then turned to face Merlin. “Merlin—"

“Maybe we should take this to the infirmary,” Merlin said. He was relieved to hear himself sound much calmer than he felt.

 

**-KM-**

 

Eggsy would be the first to admit that, when he had told Roxy a few weeks ago that he wouldn’t mind getting into Harry’s pants, _this_ wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

Eggsy shifted in his seat, opening his legs so that he could sprawl in the chair. He watched the nurse and himself (or, rather, Harry) converse tersely over the results of the most recent screening they’d been subjected to. After ascertaining that neither agent was physically damaged in any obvious way, Merlin had escorted them to the non-emergency ward of the infirmary. There, they had been poked, prodded, had their blood drawn, and underwent a myriad of psychological tests to prove what Eggsy –and Harry— already knew very well.

“A body swap?” Eggsy asked incredulously. Hearing Harry’s voice come out of his (well, his current) mouth with a colloquial drawl was still a novelty. To be fair, he reckoned most of this would continue to be a novelty for a while. It wasn’t every day that one ended up in the body of the person they were lusting after.

Eggsy couldn’t decide if this was kinky or simply uncanny. He was now inhabiting a body he found very attractive. He was half-tempted to excuse himself so that he could have a peek—but if this was shaping up to be as bad as he thought it was, he figured he would have for that time later.

Merlin turned to him. “A mind swap,” he corrected evenly. “The machine was built for transference of brain functions from one body to another. So, Eggsy, your mind is currently in Harry’s body, and the opposite is true for Harry.”

Eggsy turned his head to look at Harry, only to find him doing the same. Harry appeared to be sizing up Eggsy’s residence in his body dubiously. It was such a weird sensation to be stared at by one’s own self, not reflected in a mirror. Eggsy could see the line of his own jaw in the way Harry was clenching it, and the vein that trailed blue up his neck. Eggsy recognized it as his mentally constipated look.

“Is it permanent?” Harry asked.

Eggsy turned back to watch as Merlin shook his head and felt a wave of real relief flood him. “No—at least, we don’t think so. According to Schöenberg’s notes, the transfer is reversible.”

Harry cocked one of Eggsy’s eyebrows disbelievingly, the one with the scar across it—which was infuriating, because Eggsy had only managed to raise the _other_ eyebrow, and not even in as fine or haughty an arch. It seemed that, only a few hours in and Harry had finer motor control over Eggsy’s body than Eggsy himself had.

“And this reversal needs to be engineered, I assume? I can’t imagine it would just resolve itself.”

“That is what I am thinking as well, though I’m not quite sure what that entails,” Merlin admitted. “Some of the notes Percival recovered along with the device are written in code. It’s quite ingenious, actually, if a bid mad—”

Eggsy couldn’t help the undignified snort that left Harry’s body. “Fuckin’ right it is.”

Harry turned Eggsy’s own unimpressed gaze upon him. “This should not have happened in the first place,” he said in an admonishing tone, and _that_ was fucking weird, to be told off by oneself. “You were never meant to be in that room with me, Eggsy. That device was meant to be seen by the highest clearance personnel only.”

“What am I, chopped liver? I—”

“—did not have clearance.”

Merlin looked to Harry. “Why _was_ he down there with you?”

Harry sighed peevishly. “He followed me. He was attempting to ask me something.” He shot another look at Eggsy, both peevish and questioning.

Eggsy looked down into Harry’s lap. “Not important,” he muttered quietly. 

“In any case,” Merlin continued forcefully, “I think you should both be quarantined until we can sort this out—“

While Harry and Merlin began discussing the situation once more, Eggsy slumped in his chair and tuned him out. He _had_ been meaning to ask Harry out—not quite unimportant, in his books. After months of flirtation, he had finally managed to summon the bollocks to actually ask Harry straight up whether or not he would be interested in dating (read: shagging). It had only been by a comedic act of divinity (and through Eggsy’s clumsiness) that the accident had happened.

 _Well,_ Eggsy thought morosely, _there is no bloody way I’m going to ask him out like this._

**-KM-**

 

Twenty-two hours later, Harry found himself sitting in the parlor of the safe house, fiddling with his phone, listening to the shower run.

Frowning, he swiped an unfamiliar thumb aimlessly across the pristine screen. A very unsavory cocktail of emotions was bubbling in him currently, and he was not seriously inclined to examine all of them. He would acknowledge that he felt vexed, anxious, bored, and not least of all irritated beyond belief. And why not? He was inhabiting the body of a twenty-six-year-old junior agent, stuck in a small country safehouse with said agent, while the other traipsed around being impossibly merry, despite everything. Harry had been a Kingsman for over two decades and never had anything of this sort happened.

Between his current situation and getting shot at, he would welcome a firing squad. At least he was accustomed to that.

Harry’s thumb hovered over a contact on his phone, but he didn’t press down. He listened instead to the sound of the shower. Christ, Eggsy took blessedly long showers. He’d already been in there for twenty minutes. What was he doing in there?

 _No, no, no_ , Harry thought quickly, jaw tightening. He would _not_ think about what Eggsy was doing in the shower whilst in his body. He simply wouldn’t. He was already having trouble adjusting to Eggsy’s ridiculous libido. No need to add fuel to the fire.

Harry sighed. He supposed it would be too much to ask Eggsy to be mature about the situation—though a natural curiosity couldn’t be helped, he supposed. And, given that this was technically day two of the swap, it was inevitable that they would see each other naked—possibly not the way either had originally imagined, but—

That is to say, Harry hasn’t imagined Eggsy naked. Honestly. Regardless of his personal feelings for the boy, he was a professional, and he could control himself. He may have allowed himself to engage in innocent (or suggestive, depending on the situation) flirtation with his young protégé for the last several months, but he did not allow nor fool himself into taking it any further. He certainly did _not_ think about Eggsy naked.

A bit of steam was drifting out of the bathroom and beginning to fog up the mirror in the hallway. Harry watched it miserably, then looked down at his new body.

_Well, as of last night, you don’t have to imagine him naked anymore. You already know._

Harry felt color rise to his cheeks as he realized he was getting aroused. _Jesus fucking Christ._

Before he could stop himself, he was pressing the contact for Merlin and pressing the phone up to his ear.

Merlin answered on the first ring.

“He is being absolutely insufferable,” was the first thing out of Harry’s mouth. It was interesting how Eggsy’s voice sounded just then, tight with vexation and without the slightest hint of the Chav accent the real Eggsy occasionally tried so desperately to get rid of. “Please tell me you’re making progress.”

Harry listened as Merlin paused before replying. Though Merlin was now well-apprised of the situation, it probably still surprised him to hear Eggsy when he picked up. _“It’s barely been a day, Harry. What’s he done?”_

Harry was silent for a moment. He could answer with ten thousand examples that all boiled down to essentially nothing, so he settled for the truth.

“Nothing, yet,” Harry replied with a sigh. “It’s what he threatens to do.” This was partially true. Eggsy had been teasing Harry all yesterday evening. Harry had done his best not to roll his eyes and smirk because, as terrifying as some of those suggestions were, Eggsy was actually quite charming about it. “Although this morning he did make a spectacle of me by going for a jog shirtless and flirting with the neighbors farther down the road.”

 _“I thought I told you both to stay in the house,”_ Merlin said, though it sounded like he was having trouble containing his mirth at the image.

From the other room, Harry heard the shower finally shut off. “You could sound less amused,” Harry muttered, sounding every bit the sulking school boy with Eggsy’s young voice.

 _“I’ll let you know when I have something,”_ Merlin promised before he disconnected the call.

 

**-KM-**

 

It was by the grace of god and strong Cuban coffee that Merlin managed to make himself work around the clock. Since he was trying to keep the matter more or less contained, he had declared the situation confidential, Security Clearance Level 6, and had enlisted only the help of Kay (who had been sworn to secrecy) and a handful of techs from the division of Sensitive Incidents Research (SIR).

Personally, if the matter were left up entirely to him, he might have let Harry and Eggsy stew in their little situation at his leisure. It would be worth it, he thought, to see something come of the tension that constantly bubbled between them. He didn’t know if it was sexual, or romantic, or both; it would almost be cute, if it didn’t give him a headache to watch. Eggsy, with his cock-sure grinning and teasing; Harry, with his wry retorts and scathingly dry humor. Both seemingly confident in themselves, in their ability to be detached and professional; yet, underneath Eggsy’s bravado was an unsure softheartedness, and behind Harry’s stoicism and cynicism lay a romantic heart. And they each failed to recognize themselves and each other for what they were. Two bloody ships passing in the night, indeed.

They’d been doing this little dance for months, maybe longer. At first, Merlin had been too preoccupied to notice; but, once he _did_ notice, he couldn’t unsee it. Forced proximity would do them good; he wasn’t exactly sure what swapping minds would do.

 _They fucking deserved each other_ , Merlin thought savagely as he downed his sixth cup of black gold that morning. He was starting to shake a little, but he thought it had more to do with his irritation than either the sleep deprivation or the caffeine. As much as he’d like to let Eggsy and Harry fester in their predicament until they came to their senses, Kingsman did require its leader, and Eggsy had been lined up for several important assignments before this fiasco. It was imperative that they be back in commission as soon as possible.

**-KM-**

 

After the first call from Harry, Merlin received no more for another day and a half. Though he found this at first relieving, he also recognized it could be cause for concern; but rather than call up Harry himself, he decided he wouldn’t be remiss to tap into the safe house’s audio feed.

In a rare moment of repose from work, he sat down in his office with a plateful of sandwich and a glass of water (which the nurses told him he desperately needed). He dexterously popped open his personal laptop, and navigated to the audio feed for the Norfolk safehouse he seriously hoped Eggsy and Harry were still inhabiting.

He didn’t have long to worry, as silence was not what greeted him.

_“Must you do that?”_

_“Nah, but I do enjoy it.”_

_“You make me look like a hedonist.”_

_“Maybe you are, bruv.”_

Merlin shoved one corner of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He knew it had been a good idea to forego the visual feed. He wanted to be sure they were alive and well, but he did not necessarily want to be privy to whatever they were doing—although at the moment it didn’t sound too risqué. Eggsy was probably just being a prat.

_“Stop it.”_

_“Oi. Why are you being so sour? Enjoy this while it lasts. ‘Might be the most fun you ever have in my body.”_

Merlin nearly choked on his bite of roast-beef. Good fucking lord.

There was a very deliberate (and very evil) pause; then Eggsy’s voice replied in Harry’s silky intonation. _“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the word I would use to describe that particular kind of experience.”_

Eggsy seemed to recover quickly enough, at least faster than Merlin, who was still coughing, eyes watering. _“Maybe you oughta give me a practical demonstration of the other adjective, ey bruv?”_

A chuckle. _“Sod off.”_

Merlin shut his laptop. Well. At least they weren’t about to kill each other.

 

**-KM-**

 

Harry was certain that he was going to murder Eggsy.

Or die of embarrassment. At this point, he wasn’t quite sure which would come first.

Harry slumped with a sigh down onto the sofa of the safehouse’s living room. He looked at the clock that sat on the mantle above the fireplace, watching the second hand tick by. Harry had admonished Eggsy the other for being seen outside the housee, but the brat obviously hadn’t taken the rebuke to heart, because he had slipped out about an hour ago. Harry was fairly certain that he had gone into town, but on what errand he knew not. Perhaps he was just bored.

To be fair, Eggsy had been going a little stir-crazy the last two days. After being told that he couldn’t go wandering where people could see him, Eggsy moped around the house, then pranced, then began playing some raucous rock-n-roll and dancing about in nothing but a shirt, pants, and socks. Harry had spent the rest of the morning wandering around the house, desperately trying to determine if this safe-house was equipped with cameras as well as microphones. It was. Any foolish gallivanting Eggsy was doing in Harry’s body was on record forever. And not only around the house.

See, unbeknownst to Eggsy, the nearest town, population 1,203 was completely decked out with Kingsman security. No, agents were not manning the shops or living there, but every boutique, store, gas station, inn, and house had security cameras in place. If Eggsy had gone into town, Harry would know within the next few minutes.

Three and a half minutes later, Harry’s phone pinged in his pocket. Digging it out, Harry put in his password and brought up the visio feed of Eggsy in a men’s boutique.

And felt himself grow pale.

He wasted no time in dialing Eggsy. He put the call on speakerphone so he could continue to watch the camera feed on screen.

Eggsy picked up without looking to see who was calling. _“Yeah?”_

“You are not buying that, nor am I wearing it.”

Eggsy didn’t even have the grace to sound surprised. _“Awh, come off it Harry. You look very fetching.”_

“I look ridiculous.”

_“I think it suits you.”_

Harry stared. In a strange turn of fate, he was having a hard time figuring out whether Eggsy genuinely believed that, or if the boy was just trying to torment him. It was sometimes difficult to tell with Eggsy. The young man had a penchant for flirting, and this often involved teasing and playing jokes. Harry was accustomed to the form. He had employed it on others himself, when he’d been a youth; he had also been subjected to this kind of maneuver many times throughout his career. It never worked.

Except, he was having some difficulty parsing things out with Eggsy. Because Eggsy was flirtatious by nature—one could argue that he would make a pass at anything with two shapely, _Homo sapiens_ legs. It was usually meant to be funny, but Eggsy was always a little more determined where Harry was concerned. His laughs were cheekier, his jokes more devilish, and Harry would be bloody blind if he didn’t notice the way Eggsy constantly looked at him.

Much the same way Eggsy was looking at himself—in Harry’s body—in the mirror at this little shop.

Harry harrumphed, though he didn’t think it sounded as convincing as he would like. “You’re the only one with that opinion I’m sure—”

Eggsy didn’t miss a beat, simply ran a hand through Harry’s hair and appraised himself further in the mirror. _“Let’s get a second, then, shall we?”_ Harry watched as Eggsy turned to snag the attention of a passing salesclerk. _“‘Ey, miss—”_

“Eggsy—!”

_“Miss, I’ve just sent a photo of my outfit to my son, and he doesn’t think I’m slick enough to wear it. What d’you think?”_

Harry watched as Eggsy laved Harry’s most winning smile upon the girl, and she blushed sweetly. She was a pretty young thing, about Eggsy’s age or younger with chestnut hair and round cheeks.

Once she recovered her surprise and slight embarrassment, the girl looked Harry’s body over critically. _“Is this for a date?”_ she asked. 

_“Indeed, miss.”_

_“Well, sir, to be honest—”_

_Ah_ , Harry thought with a grimace, _here it comes—_

_“—dressed like that, I’d say she doesn’t stand a chance.”_

Harry felt his jaw drop.

The girl blushed, but stared determinedly into Eggsy’s—well, Harry’s— eyes. Eggsy gave another of Harry’s charming smiles. _“Thank you dear. Harry, did you hear that—?”_

Harry hung up.

 

**-KM-**

 

By the end of the third day, Kingsman was already beginning to dearly feel the lack of its patriarch. Merlin knew in theory how to act as Arthur, but in practice it was proving to be more complicated than he had anticipated. He was constantly messaging Harry on his tablet. To his relief, the older man did not take this opportunity to groan about his situation; as ever, Harry was the epitome of professionalism (in this regard). Of course, this made Merlin even more curious as to the sit rep at the safehouse; he was beginning to consider checking into the audio feed on a semi-regular basis—as a practical measure, mind. He needed to be aware of the situation at all times, even though quarantine, in this case, was a decidedly domestic setting.

He sent Kay by the safehouse with a tablet full of documents for Harry to look over on the afternoon of the third day. He would have emailed them directly, but cyber security being what it was these days, he decided not to risk it. Around six, when Kay had been gone for forty minutes longer than the six hours the task should have taken him, Merlin was reconsidering the merits of having sent the young man alone. He was relieved moments later by the sound of a door opening, and the sight of the aristocratic-looking blonde as he stepped into the room.

One look at his face, however, gave Merlin pause.

“Something wrong?”

Kay blinked and looked up at him slowly from underneath pale blonde lashes, his expression slightly dazed. “I—well—I don’t think I’ve seen Mr. Hart in anything but proper attire—that is, I’m aware that he’s _not_ Mr. Hart, but. . . .” He looked back down, a flush creeping across his pale cheeks. “Sorry, never mind.” He shook his head once and straightened. “I will be at my desk if you need me.”

Merlin nodded without expression, but as soon as the younger man was out of the room, he was placing a call to Harry. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, simply asked: “Is he prancing around starkers?”

There was a long-suffering sigh from the other side of the line. _“He has pants on.”_

“Well, I think he traumatized your secretary—either that, or the lad’s in love. He—” Merlin stopped mid-sentence, a foreign sound catching his hear. “What is that?”

_“Singing.”_

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead. They were both quiet and listened as, somewhere in the distance, Eggsy took Harry’s voice through several lines of _I Could Have Danced All Night._ It was fairly pleasant, actually.

“You have a nice voice,” Merlin said after a moment.

_“Come over and he will give you a full performance.”_

“Wearing only pants?”

He could practically _hear_ Harry’s eye-roll. _“Any progress?”_

“Some. We’ve worked out the basics of how the machine works, although the actual neuro-interface is beyond any technology we’ve yet encountered. It’s quite fascinating. If it weren’t such an abominable invention, I’d very much like to spend time tinkering with it.”

“ _You do know that we will have to destroy it after this.”_

“I know. A man can dream.”

Harry heaved a sigh. _“I’ll just be bloody glad when this is over.”_

Merlin almost grinned. “Is he being that insufferable? My, Harry, I’ve never known you to get so fussed about a kid.”

_“He’s not a ‘kid’, he’s an immature, gutter-minded young adult ponying about in my body.”_

“Have you considered fighting fire with fire?”

There was a very distinct pause on the other end of the line. After a minute, Harry replied slowly: _“I didn’t necessarily want to stoop to his level.”_

“You’re in his body. If you did, none would be the wiser.”

_“Point taken.”_

**-KM-**

 

Merlin had not yet decided what to tell the other Knights (or, indeed, the rest of the organization) about Harry and Eggsy’s predicament. While neither agent was incapacitated, having switched bodies (minds, whatever) did put them in a vulnerable position. The safest option, it seemed, would be to continue to keep the matter on a need-to-know basis. Unfortunately, this meant that he was still limited in the number of hands he had on this project, and he continued to work literally through the night well into the fourth day post-Incident.

“You should go home, sir,” Kay told him at the end of the day, looking at him with slightly raised eyebrows.

Merlin glanced up from the report he had been glossing over, and raised an eyebrow of his own; it made Kay drop his gaze and add, “Respectfully, sir.”

“I appreciate your concern, Kay,” Merlin said smoothly, “but going home is not a luxury I can afford at the moment.” And he couldn’t. He was getting closer by the hour to fixing Harry and Eggsy’s problem, but the more time that went by, the more he feared deleterious side-effects—or worse, not being able to reverse the situation.

No, he couldn’t go home yet.

“You should at least sleep then, sir.” 

Merlin tilted his head to one side as he looked down at a report; the bones in his neck cracked. “I will,” he said noncommittally.

Kay nodded. “Will you require anything else of me, sir?”

“No, you are free to go. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Certainly sir.”

With that, Kay turned heel and made his exit. Merlin waited until the door was closed before he sighed, fiddled with his tablet, and brought up the safe-house audio feed.   

 

**-KM-**

 

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Ah. Harry hid his smirk and looked up from between Eggsy’s legs. He was greeted by the upside down vision of himself. Harry’s body was more or less fully clothed today (thankfully), wearing a soft maroon jumper, black pajama bottoms, and a rather displeased expression.

“Across the pond, I believe they are called ‘yoga pants’.”

The expression on Harry’s face didn’t change. Harry watched himself fold his arms, continuing to look down at him dubiously. Eggsy had been in a bit of a strop for most of the day, proof that, despite his minor exploits, the situation was beginning to wear on him. He had the rumpled look of someone who didn’t sleep well—actually, being that it was only 11, he might have just now rolled out of bed.

Harry, on the other hand, had woken up in surprisingly good spirits that morning. It was odd; ever since the mind/body swap, he had been sleeping remarkably well—better than he had in ages. His old insomnia seemed to have dissipated completely, and he woke every morning feeling renewed.

The same, it seemed, could not be said for Eggsy. Yesterday, Eggsy had complained of being unable to sleep, of lying awake for hours in bed. Harry wondered now if Eggsy had inherited his insomnia. It was possible—a switch of mind did not mean a switch of essential brain function. Perhaps more primitive things such as circadian rhythms stayed with their body of origin.

Looking up at his own tired face, Harry almost felt sorry for the boy.

Almost.

“You’re wearin’ underwear?” Eggsy half-sneered. Sneering was not a good look for Harry.

“Yoga _trousers_ ,” Harry amended, leaning into the stretch further.

Eggsy scrubbed his scruffy face with one hand. “And what do you think you’re doing in ‘em?” he asked grumpily, plodding past in socked feet to sit in the comfy chair a few feet to Harry’s left.

Harry shrugged, though it was difficult to do in his current position. He knew that Eggsy couldn’t possibly be ignorant to the practice (or generational phenomenon) of yoga; he was simply being a prat. Harry put his head back down and elongated his back, feeling it pop nicely. He was also very aware that this position put Eggsy’s arse very high in the air. Not that it should matter to Eggsy.

“Yoga,” he intoned dryly.

Eggsy’s Harry made a “humph” sound. After staring for another minute, he pulled his knees up, tucking his feet under him.

“I look like a wanker,” he said irritably.

Harry bit his bottom lip to keep from replying immediately. He wanted to say that this was very fitting, because Eggsy was indeed a wanker. In the past four days, not only had Harry gotten marvelous sleep, but he had also been marvelously randy. How Eggsy managed to concentrate on a task for more than half an hour was beyond Harry. Even now, he could feel the beginnings of arousal pooling in his groin.

Perhaps yoga pants were not the best idea.

“I think they look quite fetching on you,” Harry replied, deliberately throwing Eggsy’s comment from the other day back in his face.

Eggsy ignored that comment. “Have you always done yoga?”

Harry brought himself out of Downward Dog, dipping down in a fluid motion that curved his spine and ended with him in a plank. “Some,” he said, carefully kneeling so that his forearms were flush against the mat. “Not vigorously in years.”

“So, why can’t you do that in your _own_ body?”

“I thought it might be a novelty to do it in yours.”

As if to prove a point, Harry carefully propped one leg back and pushed with the other, resulting in a (rather comfortable) forearm stand. He held Eggsy’s legs in a piked position for a moment, toes pointed. He then allowed Eggy’s legs to curve just slightly, adding an arch to his back that Harry would never feel comfortable attempting in his own body. 

“Whoa,” said Eggsy, sounding genuinely impressed. “I didn’ know I could do that.”

Again, carefully, Harry brought himself back to the ground, and into Child’s Pose. After a moment, he rose into a sitting position. “Neither did I. Care to test just how flexible you are?”

The lascivious undertone in that question was both entirely intentional and entirely effective. From the couch, Eggsy shifted slightly, a slight pinkish tint coloring Harry’s cheeks. “Err, be my guest?”

 

**-KM-**

 

Weird as it was, by day five Eggsy was sort of used to getting along in Harry’s body.

Not that he had a whole lot of choice in the matter. It was either get used to it or be severely uncomfortable for an undetermined length of time. Not that he didn’t enjoy—appreciate? – Harry’s body. But it was one thing to fancy it, and quite another to be living in it. There were unforeseen obstacles to being Harry Hart, it seemed. The insomnia was bloody awful; the stiffness he sometimes felt when he woke in the morning was not the greatest; and all the other quirks of his body were both annoying and oddly endearing by turns. For example, when Eggsy opened Harry’s jaw wide as in a yawn, he distinctly felt his jaw pop. The first time it happened, it was extremely unsettling, and Eggsy had sat there for a moment, frozen, afraid his jaw wouldn’t pop back into place. When it did so easily, Eggsy popped it again, experimentally. And again. And again. Until it occurred to him:

 

Harry had had his jaw dislocated. 

And that had spurred another realization: that he could learn a little of Harry’s history by the subtle machinations of his body.

And so, he experimented; and he learned.

He learned that, while Harry was mostly ambidextrous, he was slightly left-handed when writing, but slightly right handed in most other activities (cough). Eggsy learned that Harry had sustained an injury of unknown origin that had given him a little nerve damage in his left leg, and he was unable to fully curl all of the toes on that foot. He learned that Harry’s left hand was double-jointed, but his right one not, which meant that he’d probably broken something at one point. Eggsy learned that Harry had exceptional balance and that, because Harry’s legs were so long, if he didn’t consciously think about walking, his gait could be almost ungainly—but that correcting it was almost second-nature.

Actually, there were a lot of things—little things—that Harry did that seemed second nature. Eggsy hadn’t noticed them until he started to look for them, but once he saw them it was plain as day. All these subtle movements, automatic positioning . . . it definitely wasn’t coming from Eggsy.

“I think I’ve got some of your muscle memory.”

Harry looked up from his book when Eggsy said that. Eggsy tried not to grimace at the visage of himself, that expression on his face that was so quite Harry.

Harry tilted Eggsy’s head and closed his book. “Why do you think that?”

Eggsy explained.

Harry listened intently, and Eggsy watched his own face try on a look of contemplative interest. After Eggsy had finished talking, Harry sat back, face a mixture of curiosity and bemusement. 

“That’s rather odd, actually,” Harry said. “Merlin would be interested to know.”

“Why?”

“Modification of motor programs are, theoretically, performed by cerebellum of the brain. If you have some of my motor memory whilst in my body, then the transfer of brain function as mediated by the machine is not complete. Perhaps it’s limited to the cerebrum. Possibly even the prefrontal cortex.”

“Not sure what you’re on about, Harry. I missed that part of biology classes.”

“You wouldn’t have had this, in your public schooling. Neuroscience generally isn’t taught until university.”

“Well, we both know I didn’t make it that far.”

“And yet, I feel confident that you are bright enough to understand that we have an unusual opportunity before us. In the interest of science and a relief from ennui, I propose an experiment.”

“Yeah?”

“Care to spar?”

 

**-KM-**

 

_We’re going to hell for this, I’m certain._

Merlin looked up from the two cages sitting on his desk to the chief of SIR, who had much the same expression on her features. The older woman made a face closer to a grimace than anything else, then shrugged one shoulder.

Returning his gaze to the research bench before him, Merlin surveyed once again the abomination they had wrought.

“I think it was wise to limit these experiments to members of the same phylogenetic kingdom,” Marya Schalla, the SIR office, said.

 _What, and miss out on the chance to determine if fungi can think?_ Merlin’s gaze moved from the small bonnet macaque monkey to the grey rabbit. At first glance, nothing appeared to be amiss between them. A few minutes study, though, revealed otherwise.

“What have you found?”

“The transfer affects mostly executive functions,” Schalla related. “And some more primitive brain functions such as the fear response and so forth. Most things related to sensory perception are more or less untouched, as far as we can tell.”

“So, this is primarily a behavioral switch,” Merlin mused, almost to himself.

Schalla nodded. Producing a key from her pocket, she unlocked the cage with the rabbit and lifted the animal out. It made a series of strangled-chirping noises that Merlin was unaccustomed to rabbits making.

“This is Buster,” said Schalla, setting the rabbit down. “As a rabbit, he isn’t much of a carnivore—generally. After the switch, though, he was essentially off his normal greens. However, he expressed great interest in raw meat, when it was presented to him. As you can imagine, it’s not treating his digestive system well. We’ve switched him to fruits.” Schalla ran a sympathetic hand down Buster’s back.

“What else?”

Schalla produced a small device from her pocket. “He responds to the bonnet macaque call—as best he can.” The SIR officer pressed a button and the device emitted a screeching sound, as of macaques communicating.

Buster was immediately incensed, standing up on his hind legs and bellowing as best his rabbit vocal chords could allow. It was the most abominable racket.

Merlin refrained from covering his ears. He nodded at the macaque monkey still in its cage. “What about this one?”

“In Keaton,” Schalla began, putting Buster back in his cage, “we’ve seen a very drastic change in behavior. He’s one of our most sociable and playful monkeys. He now shies away from other macaques, spends most of his time huddled in a corner. I would almost think he was afraid of the other monkeys. I do not think that he can communicate with them properly, nor does he really understand that he is also a monkey.”

“Hm. Are you certain this behavior is due to the transfer and not because the event hurt him?”

Schalla looked affronted. “Neither Buster nor Keaton were injured or experienced any discomfort during the experiment. We were monitoring them the entire time—amygdala activity, nociception, cortisol levels, the works. They weren’t even afraid.”

Merlin tilted his head in consideration. This was encouraging work—that Schalla had managed to reproduce the experiment the machine was designed for. “What is your next recommendation?”

“More testing. I want to have a clear outline of what brain functions were transferred—and, of course, we’ll need to reverse the exchange. If the notes Schoenberg left behind are any indication, the process should be made more facile, considering it is very similar to the original transfer. I daresay we will have positive results by early this morning.”

Merlin nodded. _Good. I don’t know if I can face Judgement Day if we don’t correct this ill-advised abomination of nature. And I don’t just mean the animals._ “Of course. Please proceed with further experimentation. If you need my formal approval, send documents to me directly instead of through Kay.”

When Schalla left, Merlin reached for his tablet and flicked through his applications. It was time to check on the boys, he reckoned, and they would be pleased to know that SIR was one step closer to rectifying the situation.

He clicked through to a setting that allowed him to speak through the audio-system installed in the safehouse. This way, he could speak to Harry and Eggsy both directly. He was about to open his mouth and initiate the convo when he heard Eggsy’s Harry voice bemoan:

_“I’m fucking bored.”_

There was a pause, and a slight shifting sound, as of someone rearranging themselves on a couch. Then, Harry responded:

_“I confess, I am as well.”_

Another moment of pause.

_“Should we get raving drunk do you think?”_

A long sigh was followed by an even longer pause.

_“I don’t see why not.”_

Merlin stared bemusedly at his screen. Then, without further ado, he closed the feed. No. Nope. He did _not_ want to get involved with that. His news could wait until the morning. They might actually have an answer by then.

**-KM-**

 

Eggsy had to admit that his suggestion to get hammered was not without slightly nefarious motivation.

Well, “nefarious” was a bit much. Lecherous probably hit closer to home. Although even that was something of a stretch because, while he did fancy Harry quite a bit, Eggsy wasn’t exactly sure that he was up to seducing Harry while the latter was in Eggsy’s body. Even if there little sparing session the other day had landed him flat on his back under Harry in several different positions that provided some imagery for wank fantasies for years to come. (As it turned out, he only had _some_ of Harry’s muscle memory.)

And, given that Eggsy was currently _way_ less drunk than Harry, instigating foreplay of any kind probably wasn’t the most gentlemanly thing to do. He had only wanted to make the situation a bit flirtier, after all, not necessarily take advantage.

All in all, his plan had rather backfired, and the situation was turning out to be rather frustrating.

“Fuck, what’s wrong wiv’ your liver? I’m _barely_ feelin’ it.” Eggsy irritably threw back the rest of his brandy—his fourth of the night—and set the drink down on the nearby coffee table with an audible clunk. He rounded his gaze on Harry, who was lounging haphazardly in a comfy chair, Eggsy’s limbs askew. Harry had barely started in on this third brandy, was just lazily sipping it from the snifter. He looked ridiculously content.

“Are you an alcoholic?” Eggsy asked.

Eggsy watched himself snort and twist on the chair as Harry tried to turn his body more upright. “Don’t be . . . absurd.” He barely avoided spilling some of his brandy.

It was Eggsy’s turn to snort. God, Harry made him look fucking pathetic. “Aaaand I’m fucking lightweight.” Little known fact, but Eggsy was not much of a drinker. That is, he liked a drink, but preferred light ales and lagers to hard liquor, and growing up largely responsible for his kid sister Daisy had made him wary of every becoming too intoxicated to help or protect her.

Hence, the current situation.

“You _are_.”

Eggsy laughed fully this time. Even coming from himself, he liked the way Harry’s laugh sounded. “You sound surprised, guv.”

Harry nodded Eggsy’s head vaguely, eyebrows doing strange things. “I’m fucking trollied.”

Eggsy barely contained another snort. “Yeah, you—whoa.”

“Something?” 

“Err… you got an ‘and on my thigh, y’know that?”

It was a rather unnerving thing, to have Eggsy’s hand resting on Harry’s thigh, which was currently Eggsy’s thigh and Harry’s hand, and, good lord, Harry flashed him one of Eggsy’s signature devilish grins and his fingers _squeezed_ ever so slightly, massaging the muscle there.

“Technically, it’s _my_ thigh.”

Eggsy stared down at his own face, trying to read the expression there. He had thought that, with Harry inhabiting his body, Eggsy would be able to gauge Harry’s emotions much better—he was, after all, very familiar with his own facial expressions. However, gazing down at himself—sprawled half over the couch, hand resting high up Harry’s thigh, head tilted mischievously to one side— Eggsy could no more decipher Harry’s expression than when it was worn by the correct face. He could see that Harry was amused, to be sure, but there was always a certain mystique about Harry that left the majority of his thoughts and emotions unreadable, swimming deep below the surface. There was indeed something beneath the amusement, but Eggsy couldn’t figure out what that was.

Unless. . . .

Eggsy looked directly into his own blue-green eyes.

Which were now mostly black. Because his pupils were dilated.

Well _fuck_.

There was no doubt in Eggsy’s mind whether or not Harry had seen the realization cross his face; but, instead of being chagrinned, Harry did the unthinkable.

He threw his head back and laughed.

Eggsy sat there, slightly mortified for god knew what reason as Harry’s laughter led the former to slink from his chair and halfway onto the floor. His hand left Eggsy’s thigh, and Harry let his head loll lazily back on the seat of the chair he’d been occupying, still chuckling quietly.

Eggsy sat back further in his seat, reaching over and re-filling his snifter with brandy. Irritated for reasons he couldn’t really identify, he took another sip of the amber liquid.

“You’ve got no clue what I wanna do to you right now.”

Eggsy had been thinking more along the lines of throttling Harry for laughing so hard, but Harry, through his drunken haze, simply looked up at him and grinned.

“ _You_ must have a _very poor_ opinion of my _imagination_.”

 

**-KM-**

 

Eggsy woke up to the sound of the shower running.

He groaned at the stiffness in Harry’s knees and back as he realized he fell asleep on the couch. (God, he would trade a hangover for this old person shit any day.) In fact, he didn’t remember Harry making it off to bed either—which means he slept on the floor.

Eggsy righted Harry’s body slowly and leaned into the back of the couch, blinking. He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but he did know it was way too fucking early to be awake after the amount of alcohol they had consumed last night.

In the distance, Eggsy heard the shower turn off, the sound of a curtain being drawn back, and then some shuffling typical of a person leaving a shower. After another few minutes, he heard a door open and close, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Christ. He needed a minute to stand under hot water and recollect the rest of his senses.

Prying himself from the couch, Eggsy rose and Harry’s body emitted several cracks as fluid and gas in his joints redistributed themselves. God. Harry was quite fit—no, he was stupid fit—for his age, but Christ, getting older was going to _suck_.

Only still slightly awake, Eggsy tottered in Harry’s body towards the bathroom, intent upon a hot shower. The door was slightly ajar and steam was streaming out of it. Without thinking, Eggsy opened the door.

And was greeted by the sight of his naked bum.

It was weird. He wasn’t sexually attracted to himself. That would be supremely bizarre, not to mention mythologically narcissistic. But he couldn’t help but appreciate the rearview of his own figure, fresh from the shower, water droplets clinging to his bare skin. He looked damn fine.

It actually took him a minute to snap back to the present and have the sense to be embarrassed.

“Christ, sorry, I —oh.”

Harry, who had Eggsy’s back turned and was in the process of drying his front, turned his head to look back. Unimpressed, he served up Eggsy an arch silence. 

“You needn’t look so chagrined,” Harry said, continuing to dry off. “It’s not becoming on me. And we’re both adults here . . . I think.”

Eggsy, brain still addled from sleep, frowned in confusion. He felt like he should be insulted but wasn’t sure how. “What the fuck is tha— erh—”

Harry turned to face Eggsy now, using the towel to dry his shoulders and neck. The bottom of the towel barely covered Eggsy’s manhood. Taking in Eggsy’s stunned silence, Harry scoffed: “Please. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Err—”

“Did you know you’re randy constantly? God, I forgot what it was like to be your age.”

“I’m twenty-six, Harry, not _that_ young. And you don’t have any trouble getting it up yourself.”

Harry’s face was blank for a moment—then, in a turnabout, he positively _leered_. “Been experimenting, have you?”

Eggsy’s felt Harry’s face turn an impossible pink. He was probably nearly fuchsia. “Fuck off, Harry.”

Harry shrugged and continued toweling off. “Don’t mind if I do.” He lifted the towel to his head, and Eggsy, inexplicably, turned around so as not to see himself naked.

Blushing profusely, Eggsy squared his shoulders, and muttered, “Whatever”. He was about to walk out of the bathroom and towards the living room to wait his turn when Harry spoke up.

“Oh, Eggsy.”

Eggsy stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“Merlin called. We’re reporting back to HQ in an hour. They’ve figured it out.”

 

**-KM-**

 

Not for the first time, Harry turned to eye himself up and down, a look of faint disgust gracing his (Eggsy’s) features. He looked absolutely ridiculous. Thank heavens there were very few people here to see this. He gave a pained sigh.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing that.”

In response, Eggsy batted Harry’s eyelashes and threw him an uncommon grin. “I can’t believe _you’re_ wearing it.”

“Gentlemen, if you please,” Merlin addressed them as he stepped into the room where Eggsy, Harry, Schalla, and two senior lab techs from SIR were standing around the infernal device. He surveyed them all and drew a breath to address them when his eyes landed on Eggsy—and the outfit he had adorned Harry’s figure with.

“That—” his eyebrows raised. “—that is _bold._ ”

Eggsy positively beamed, whilst Harry (who had made Eggsy wear a dark red knit jumper and black pants and looked quite respectable, thank you), rolled Eggsy’s eyes. “Don’t encourage him,” he muttered.

Merlin, still staring at the outfit, cleared his throat. “Right. Well.” He cleared his throat again.

Harry rolled Eggsy’s eyes yet again, somehow much more emphatically. “The reversal process, Merlin?”

“Yes. We’ve managed to understand, in rough terms, how the machine works and operates. We’ve successfully switched the brains of two animals, and then subsequently reversed the switch . . . I can’t imagine the process in humans would be much different.” Before Eggsy and Harry could exchange worried looks, he pressed on, “Worst case scenario is that it doesn’t work.”

 _And they’d be stuck like this forever,_ went unsaid. Harry and Eggsy exchanged looks. _Thanks, but no thanks_.

“What do we need to do?”

At that moment, Schalla stepped into the sphere of conversation. “Gentlemen,” she said, “please hold hands.”

Eggsy and Harry once again exchanged looks. Then, Harry sighed and, in true Eggsy fashion, said, “Fuck me,” and reach over to grab Eggsy’s—or, rather his own—hand.

Merlin smiled grimly; he and the other two SIR technicians stepped back, while Schalla fiddled with the dials and buttons on the machine. It began to whirr faintly, at which point Schalla also stepped back.

“Gentlemen, you will return to your bodies in approximately—” the machine gave a wail like a fire alarm and Schalla held up her wrist to look at her digital watch, “Five, four, three, two—”        

 

**-KM-**

 

God, it felt good to be himself again.

Harry Hart tried to pay attention as Merlin prattled on excitedly about the machine, and why it would be scientifically and strategically best to keep it for study and _not_ obliterate it—but he was overwhelmed with the odd sense of being inside his own body. It was a peculiar awareness that he had never quite felt before, and it was delightful, indescribable, and utterly distracting.

“—we would, of course, give access to only those with the highest of security clearances—"

Harry shook his head, to clear his head as much as just to exert some small dominion over his own body.

“Fine, fine. You may tinker with it; but, once we master the technology, I want it buried. I want to hear nothing of this nonsense unless we find ourselves in the situation of having to combat it again. Is that clear?”

Merlin looked like it was Christmas—which wasn’t saying a whole lot, but it earned Harry a smile, and a “Very good, Arthur,” before the quartermaster whisked away and out the door to attend to his newest pet project.

As Harry returned his gaze to his desk computer, he gave a small sigh. It was near the end of his first full day back at the office, and it had been blissfully uneventful. He had spent the morning in meetings, bring brought up to speed on things he missed whilst indisposed; the afternoon had been occupied with the kind of paperwork that he would ordinarily despise, but today found quite relaxing.

The only thing he did not find relaxing was the thought of Eggsy. After the switch, he had basically buggered off—although, to be fair, Harry was immediately swept up in his Arthur duties, and had not been given much time to . . . debrief with Eggsy, so to speak. Harry found himself wondering how Eggsy was doing, what he was up to. Harry had not seen him at all today, though his service log showed that he had put in a few hours of training.

The radio silence from Eggsy was somewhat disturbing. Ordinarily, Eggsy found some reason or another to bug Harry once during the day, even if it was little more than an inane text message. Had something happened? Was Eggsy more disturbed than he let on by the body swap, and avoiding Harry to sort it out? He hadn’t seemed overly perturbed. . . .

Sighing once more, Harry put the thought aside, and returned to his work.

 

**-KM-**

 

Eggsy eyed himself up and down in the mirror of the Kingsman men’s locker room, scrutinizing. He had just finished putting in a few hours at the gym, one for bouldering with Roxie, and another hour just weight-training, refamiliarizing himself with his body. He had spent the morning doing much the same, though in different ways: he marveled at the ability to control his own limbs, flex his own fingers, talk with his own voice. And then he wanked. Furiously.

To thoughts of Harry.

He was almost surprised that the brief stint in Harry’s body had not dampened his desire in the slightest. If anything, it made everything much worse: now, when he touched himself and thought of Harry, he didn’t have to imagine anything. He knew exactly what Harry looked like naked, knew what he looked like when he came.

(Yes, Eggsy had jerked off in front of a mirror while at that little safehouse. Sue him. It had been both intensely weird and really fucking hot.)

Point in case was that, it was now or never. Do or die. He would either summon the courage to make a move, or forever hold his peace and those memories of naked Harry Hart.

Pulling a clean shirt over his head, Eggsy ran a hand through his hair and gave himself a nod in the mirror. Show time.

**-KM-**

 

It was approximately 6:15 when Harry decided that enough was enough for one day. He had just closed down his messaging platform and was about to secure his computer when he heard a soft knocking at his office door.

“Come in,” he said distractedly, as he completed the last keystrokes to close down his station.

The door of the office opened, and Harry looked up to see none other than Eggsy step into the room.

“Ey, guv,” he said by way of greeting.

He looked decidedly like himself in a white athletic shirt, black trousers, white trainers, and a ball cap. He looked fresh, his dark blonde hair gleaming in the dim light, a small, unreadable smile playing around his full lips. Taking in the sight of him, Harry felt something stir in his gut. Not a new feeling; but now one that triggered memories of that same figure, naked. In meticulous detail. Which had not been arousing at the time, per se, but. . . .

Eggsy approache from across the large room, his characteristic swagger back in place. There was a mysterious smile playing about his lips and, though Harry was irritated to be unable to read it, he was relieved that Eggsy did not, in fact, appear to be discomfited by all that had happened.

Eggsy stopped before Harry’s desk and tilted his head, studying him. “You . . . look good.”

Before he could stop himself, Harry stood from his seat. He self-consciously ran a hand down to smoothen his tie. “Yes, well, now that I’m not dressed dangerously.”

Without an iota of self-consciousness, Eggsy gave Harry a slow and appreciative once-over. “I wouldn’t say that, bruv.”

Harry felt his pulse rapidly increase, though he carefully schooled his expression into something neutral. Back to flirting again? Although this did not quite feel like their everyday, inane banter. This felt . . . purposeful. That once-over had been ten shades of lascivious that Eggsy would have never dared approach before. Harry tilted his head to the side, mimicking Eggsy’s earlier gesture. “Is there something I can do for you, Eggsy?”

In response, Eggsy strolled around to the other side of Harry’s desk and, with insouciant grace, sat himself atop Harry’s desk, legs dangling off the side dangerously close to Harry’s own. Harry looked down at him in surprise, only to find Eggsy’s eyes were dark and smirking.

“It’s just, you said something that stuck with me when we were . . . swapped.” He swung his legs slightly.

“Oh?”

In a devil-may-care move, Eggsy swiped off his snapback, laying it on the desk; he then reached up with one hand and began lightly fingering Harry’s tie. He did not pull, just appreciated, stroking the silk and holding it between two fingers; it made Harry lean forward all the same.

He was now framing Eggsy, his hands bracing himself on the desk on either side of Eggsy’s hips, their faces close enough that Harry could feel Eggsy’s warm breath on his neck.

“Now that we’re back in our own bodies, I’d like to propose an experiment,” Eggsy said quietly.

“What did you have in mind?” Harry murmured.

Then Eggsy’s fingers did pull, and Harry came forward without resistance. He didn’t close his eyes until the last moment, just before their lips met, and then could not help but shut them, reveling in the feeling of Eggsy’s plush mouth on his. Eggsy kissed him soundly, holding him in place by his tie, nothing chaste about it. He moaned wantonly when Harry pressed his tongue into Eggsy’s mouth, and dropped his hold of Harry’s tie in favor of the front of his shirt, which he grabbed without care and used it to haul Harry even closer. Harry found himself grinding into the front of Eggsy’s trousers whilst Eggsy wrapped his legs around Harry’s and positively mewled. It was most undignified. And fucking glorious.

When they finally separated, both of them were panting. Eggsy had lost some of his cocksureness, replacing it with a somewhat dazed look that made Harry want to do all sorts of ungentlemanly things to him.

Despite this, he found himself asking: “What, exactly, is the nature of this experiment?”

Eggsy seemed to snap out of his daze, and gave Harry a grin that was full in equal measures of promise and desire.

“I’d like to test the limits of your imagination.”

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> I deliberately did not describe the outfit that Eggsy picked out for Harry, but would love to see an artist’s rendition of what they think it might look like.


End file.
